Karen tried to loosen the fasteners, but they were too tight.
If only I had a screwdriver.
She walked over and opened the top of the toilet tank. She looked inside. She reached in and snapped off the metal, trip lever. She went right to the vent intake cover and tried the tip in one of the screw slots. It was too thick.
If I scrape the end across the floor, I might be able to sharpen the edge enough.
Periodically, she returned to the vent to see if the steel was shaved down enough to fit the slit in the screws. Eventually she honed the end and it slipped into the screw-head slot.
She tried to turn the fastener, but it wouldn’t budge. She went back to the toilet, reached into the tank and unfastened the lift wire. She slipped it into one of the holes in the trip lever, and then using her makeshift, leveraged screwdriver, she removed all four of the screws that held the vent cover in place.
She went back and shut off the water to the toilet and pulled up the flap to flush it. She waited for the water to drain and then pried up the flush-valve seat and stripped as much of the gray seal as she could and then replaced it, pushing it back into place and then replaced the tank cover. She left the water turned off so that it wouldn’t continually run and attract attention, and she dropped the seat lid.
Karen reattached the leg and turned the table upright. She then set it over the scrape marks on the floor created by making the screwdriver. She then pressed some of the putty into the holes so that it wouldn’t be obvious that the screws were missing. She put the fasteners on the floor of the duct, pressing them into some of the elastic so they wouldn’t rattle.
Karen then bent the trip arm so that it had a right angle at each end. She backed into the vent and pressed the putty to the back side of the grill. She set it in place and slipped the trip arm through one of the slits and pulled it up against the wall. She carefully removed the modified tool and then slipped it back through at each corner and pulled as hard as she could.
Satisfied that the grid would stay, she crawled through the aluminum channel until she came to the next room.
She listened. There wasn’t a sound. She twisted around and slammed her feet into the grill. She listened.
Nothing.
She stomped again and listened. Part of the grill broke loose. She grabbed it and began to pump it back and forth.
It broke free and she slipped through the vent and crawled into the mechanic’s room. There was faint illumination coming from a florescent light in the corner. She immediately looked for the location of the doors. There was a metal one with no window. She walked over and quietly unlocked and opened it a hair to see.
Back into the cell.
She closed and locked it. Any breakout would have to be through the windows, or through a double, barn-like door, or back through the vent from which she first entered the room.
She walked around to see if there was anything she could use to help her escape.
All sorts of tools, electrical wire, paint, and unrecognizable paraphernalia were on shelves, the floor and various-sized benches.
Karen climbed up onto the workbench to see through a window. She had to use a rag to wipe off the grime. The adjacent stable door would lead her out to a fenced field with hills surrounding the property. Trails wound off in all directions.
The distance from the building to the shrubbery and tree-cover appeared to be about the length of a soccer field. There were two more windows on each side of the building. With rag in hand, Karen grabbed a ladder and climbed up to wipe a hole in the film and look through the glass.
On the east side there were other buildings facing her position with no windows.
The west-side structure was different. Outside, there were various means of transport: jeeps, trucks, and all-terrain vehicles.
I smell gas.
Karen turned to look over at the corner of the shop where there was a tarp covering something. She stepped off the ladder and looked beneath the canvas. It was an ATV.
She flipped the canvas off the vehicle. There were compartments with snaps and latches attached to each side of the rear carriage. She unscrewed the lid on the gas tank. It was full.
Karen climbed atop the workbench. She again looked over the landscape. To the left there appeared to be a rise that ran alongside the fence. Straight ahead was a gate. Karen couldn’t see if there was a lock on the fence. She assumed there was.
She needed a weapon or weapons. She began a systematic investigation of every drawer and cabinet, opening each and looking for anything that she could use to defend herself. She shivered. A bra and panties were not enough to protect her from the elements. She needed something heavier to wear.
If she did reach the hills and had to spend the night, she’d freeze without proper clothing. She rubbed her hand over the front of her hip to the right of her pelvis. She could feel the bandage beneath her panties where the implanted chip had been removed. Her skin was itching.
It wouldn’t have helped the French find me.
She spied a long, slender cabinet and opened the door. It held coveralls. Karen grabbed the smallest pair, stepped into the legs and pushed her arms through the holes and buttoned it up. It was baggy, but it would do. She rolled up the pant legs and the sleeves. She used a piece of rope for a belt. All of the boots were too big. She stayed barefoot.
One of the metal, heavy-duty cabinets was locked. Karen found a hacksaw and quickly cut through the lock’s shackle. Inside the locker were various power tools, including a cordless nail gun. Karen grabbed it and quickly located a roll of nails. She found a fully-charged battery and clamped it into the saddle.
She knew the tool made a poor weapon, but it was all she could find. She tied it to the handle bars of the ATV. It hung down about eighteen inches.
She then surveyed the shop again. There on the shelf above the workbench was a shortwave radio and a transmitter with a microphone. She determined that it could be powered by battery.
In the drawers of the bench, Karen found a fresh pack of double-As. She stuffed the radio and batteries into a compartment in the rear of the ATV.
Next, she searched for food. There was another cabinet near a refrigerator and a closet. Inside, there were numerous snacks. The refrigerator had fruit, puddings, luncheon meat, cheese and condiments.
Karen ignored the mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise. She grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the closet and stuffed it with items that would stay edible without refrigeration. She left the cheese and meat but took all of the other items she could fit in the sack. She placed the food in the other side compartment in the back of the ATV.
***
The two terrorists, fully expecting to defile their captive and get away with it, fully expecting to fulfill a previously discussed scenario, fully expecting to be sexually satisfied, unlocked the metal door of the room and stepped inside.
“Where is she?” one said.
Atwah’s phone rang. “What?”
“She’s gone.”
“Impossible,” Atwah said and immediately ran down the stairs and headed for the cell. He burst into the room and asked, “Was the door locked?”
“Yes, we had to use the key to open it.”
“Why did you enter the room?”
The men hesitated.
Atwah noticed the rags in their hands. He was about to say something when Fadhil arrived and stepped into the chamber. “I saw you running and decided to follow.”
“She’s gone. The fuckin’ bitch is gone,” Atwah said.
“Shit, someone must have set her free. I want a meeting with everyone, now,” Fadhil said, stormed out of the room and headed for the large hall.
All the terrorists gathered.
Fadhil began, “The prisoner has escaped. I want her found and brought back here, alive. Alive and unharmed. Look everywhere. Rip this fucking place apart. And look for the person who helped her escape. We must have missed someone when we took this place over. The bastard’s gonna pay.�
��
Fadhil went back to his makeshift office, lit up another cigar and continued double-checking his plans that would murder hundreds and bankrupt France.
***
Karen searched throughout the mechanic’s room for anything else that could help her escape. She then stood in the middle of the space and visualized her next move.
She would role the ATV to a spot in front of the barn door; she would then quietly open the exit, get on the ATV, fire it up, bolt for the field, and race into the hills.
She was about to initiate her escape when she noticed a small trashcan with something sitting atop it. She walked to it and discovered that it was a shredder. There were no papers lying on it or near it. She lifted up the lid that housed the motor and blades and looked inside.
At the bottom of the bin was a small quantity of shredded paper. She picked up one slip and looked at both sides. It was in color. She made it straight to see what might have been on the document. White space, color, white, color, white, dark colors, white, dark colors then flesh then dark, then white.
What would be so important that a mechanic would need a shredder and have to destroy something?
Karen grabbed all of the remaining pieces of paper, careful to extract the few still hanging from the blades, and stuffed them into her coverall pocket and fastened the flap.
CHAPTER 24
Karen slowly opened the barn doors and cringed as the hinges squeaked. She swung them out just wide enough to allow the ATV to pass. She mounted the seat and listened.
Silence. The area’s as big as a…
Karen’s mind drifted to the soccer field and last year’s championship game:
***
Karen wiped a trickle of blood from her lip.
The goalie yelled to her teammates, and they all responded by holding their arms over their heads making the sign of an X.
Karen’s eyes widened. She ran her sleeve across her brow to wipe the sweat.
The goalie threw the ball. Karen trapped it and immediately took off down the field. She dribbled and then passed to a teammate on the left. Karen then crossed the field and ran straight up the middle.
She timed her stride. She had position. She had the speed. She had the coordination. The ball fell toward her.
Karen jumped to avoid a tackler and her right foot met the ball before it hit the ground. It struck the post and...
***
Karen snapped back to the present.
This time I’ll be alone on the field.
She looked the length of the grassland in front of her, set her jaw, and fired the engine. She gunned it, shot through the opening, and aimed toward the banks that rose above the fence.
She heard men yelling. She looked back. Three terrorists were running toward parked ATVs. Within moments engines were racing and they were in the hunt.
They quickly gained on her position. Although they had weapons, they were given orders to take Karen alive and unharmed.
An ATV pulled alongside and the driver quickly stood up on his seat and jumped onto Karen’s vehicle, letting his machine coast away to the right.
Karen grabbed the nail gun, pressed the barrel against the terrorist’s leg, and fired. He screamed and grabbed his thigh. Karen snatched his gun from its holster and pushed him off.
She looked at the tool swinging from the handlebar and said, “Handy device.”
A second terrorist raced alongside. Karen shot at his front tires. They burst. She also hit the gas tank. The ATV tumbled, throwing the driver and exploding into a ball of fire.
The last man was quickly closing the distance. Karen headed for the hills that ran parallel to the fence. The barrier was made of heavy chain-link topped with barbed wire. Posts were set two feet apart.
I’ll never be able to smash through it. Have to go over.
She opened the throttle. The ground was uneven and treacherous. It bounced her all over. She kept her sights on the height of the fence. Her head was above it, then her body. Another rise was approaching. There was a dip just before it.
This could be it—one way or the other.
If she had enough speed and enough height, she might be able to vault the barricade and escape the terrorists. If not, she’d crash to a halt and be recaptured.
She aimed for the depression. She’d have to twist at the last second. Either she’d fly over the fence, slam into it, or the ATV would tumble and throw her off.
The defenders are closing in. No teammates with me. All alone approaching the goal.
Karen kept the ATV steady. The vehicle rushed down and then up. At the last second, she turned the handlebars. She left the earth, cleared the fence and landed on the outside rocky soil, bouncing violently. She rose up above the handle bars but held on. She smashed back down onto the seat, kept control and turned the throttle wide open.
She looked behind. The terrorist pursuing her followed the same route.
If he makes the jump, he’ll catch me.
He was driving a more powerful vehicle. He had his gun in his hand.
Regardless of what his orders were, he wasn’t going to let Karen escape. Fadhil wanted her alive, but wounded would be fine. Maybe a bullet in the leg or the arm. Even in the back as long as it didn’t hit any of the vital organs. Up near the shoulders.
The terrorist fired.
Karen looked back and pulled the trigger of the gun she took from the terrorist. It jammed. She threw it to the ground and continued racing away.
The terrorist fired again just as his ATV left the ground. He smashed into the fence, his head slammed into the post, and he fell to the ground.
Karen looked back. He wasn’t moving. She then looked down at her gas tank. Gas was leaking. She slammed on the brakes, hopped off and searched the saddlebags. She found a rag, grabbed a spike from her nail gun, and stuffed the cloth into the bullet hole.
She climbed back on and continued cross country toward the hills in the distance. She stayed off the roads choosing to follow the trails and raced into the Forêt Domaniale de Notre-Dame.
***
As soon as Karen had taken off with the ATV, Atwah ran to the mechanic’s room. He walked the perimeter. The mechanic walked with him. Within seconds, Fadhil entered.
“She got in through here,” Atwah said, pointing to the open vent. He picked up the screen and tossed it across the room. “The fucking bitch crawled through the ductwork.”
Fadhil said, “She took the ATV from here. We need to find out what else she’s taken.”
“The mechanic says the radio’s gone. It’s a shortwave. She could use it to call for help.”
“Or worse, disclose our location.” Fadhil turned to the mechanic and said, “Get a radio. Scan the channels for her transmission. In the meantime, the rest of you go after her. Find her. Bring her back. Alive.”
Another group of terrorists took off on all-terrain vehicles, sped through the gate, and into the forest.
CHAPTER 25
Paris
Jacques Lamboise listened to the rain gently falling onto his car’s, canvas roof. He flicked his cigarette through the open window, pressed the button, and the glass silently rose in response to his command, reaching up to the rubber seal below the cloth top, meeting it, slipping behind, and closing without a sound.
He knew he had his adversary cornered, and as long as he didn’t make any mistakes, his mission would be accomplished.
He turned off the car, pulled out the key, opened the door, and pivoted his way out of the convertible. He scanned the parking lot. He quietly pressed the door shut, and rather than press the electronic lock on his fob, he inserted the key, and twisted it, listening to hear the sound of the sequential locking of the two doors, the gas tank flap, and finally the trunk.
He left the antitheft alarm unarmed. He didn’t want to hear the car chirp, nor did he want to let Cyrus Stensel hear it. He knew that the radicalized terrorist was in the building. Lamboise’s eyes drifted up to the second floor window. A dim light
splayed across the ceiling of the room.
He reached the second floor and listened. There was soft conversation coming from the target area. He suddenly realized he wasn't alone in the hallway. A quick look to his left revealed what appeared to be a human shadow at the far end. Lamboise drew his gun and clicked the release. He ducked into a doorway and scanned the hallway.
He heard the muffled crack of a gun with a silencer. The first shot whizzed past his head. He knew he’d never complete his goal without becoming wounded or dead. He was told Stensel would be alone in the building.
The information was wrong. It was a trap! He slipped into the room behind him and latched the door. He opened the outer window and looked for a fire escape. There was none. He could only climb up to safety.
He stepped out onto the ledge. The rain was falling at a brisk rate. The bricks were slippery. Lamboise holstered his weapon and began to climb. He didn’t know how much time he had. He couldn’t worry about that. Only three endings to the day could happen: either he’d fall to his death, be shot, or reach the roof and maybe escape with his life.
He climbed as fast as he could. The lightening flashed and thunder boomed. He heard the window below him open. A crack, and a bullet ricocheted off the building’s façade.
Lamboise reached the roof, ran across the tarred surface, and jumped to the next building and then the next and again until he was a block away. He found an iron fire escape and dropped to the ground. He ran back to the parking lot and stood at the corner of the building to see if anyone was near or within sight of his car. He ran toward his vehicle and hit the unlock button on the fob. The car chirped and the lights flashed.
He slid onto the tan leather seat behind the leather-wrapped steering wheel, inserted the key into the ignition and twisted his wrist. The engine fired as a bullet hit the skin of the vehicle. He slipped the car into gear and stepped hard on the gas. The driveshaft spun into action as another bullet pierced the canvas top.
Krystal Scent (Krystal Vibration Series Book 2) Page 17
